


Supervised Visitation

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Escape [2]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 14:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: If anyone asked him what his favorite part of his weekly visit with Jon was, Damian would probably say it was threatening his brother’s soldiers.





	Supervised Visitation

**Author's Note:**

> Jon and Conner get an hour a day to physically visit with each other. They basically get no other special treatment other than their own cells and where they are, and maybe allowed to actually keep the gifts Damian brings them. The prison staff all like Damian, Jon and Conner pretty well, so they get a lot of leeway on those rules (beyond this fic of course.) All the metas in all the prisons have the cuff-collar combo. When the collars are turned on, they’re on for everyone in the prison, though individualized for when they actually shock people. (ie, Conner was not shocked at any point during Damian’s visit.) Jon puts on a brave/’it’s all fine in here’ face for Damian, but really - he’s a miserable little puppy.

It’d be funny, in another life. Every prison guard on every shift knew him by now. Recognized his car when he came through the gate, began all security check protocols before he even shut off the engine.

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello again, Mr. Wayne.”

“Weren’t you just here yesterday, Mr. Wayne? Time sure is flying.”

“You ever going to bring that brother of yours? We’d be more than happy to accommodate him and his friend, too.”

Jonathan and his brother were kept in a mostly private ward, behind tight security and code-encrypted doors, with separate, spacious cells, as far away from the prison entrance and general population as possible – more because Damian paid for them to be than any other reason.

(He paid the prison double to make sure the _Commander_ didn’t find out about the ‘special treatment.’)

Some of the other prisoners heckled him as the warden walked him through the cellblock, bag and picnic basket curled around his arm. Damian paid them no mind. Never did. Normally from the moment he left the penthouse to the moment he was in the private hallway, only one thing was on his mind.

One _person_.

When the warden opened the barred door to where the Kent boys were held, Damian immediately scowled. There were guards in the corridor. But not just any guards.

His brother’s soldiers.

“We…were ordered to.” Warden Alexei whispered sadly. “And I…I just want to warn you, Mr. Wayne.” Damian glanced down at him. “…They forced us to turn the collars back on.”

Damian clenched his teeth.

“Thank you for letting me know.” Damian growled out as he stepped forward. The warden followed behind silently. After a few feet, they passed Conner’s cell – he was asleep, in the standard orange jumpsuit, curled in a ball on his cot, blanket half on the floor.

Damian could see the flashing red light on the silver collar he wore, indicating it was powered. He inhaled deeply and looked away as they continued.

Jon’s cell was across from Conner’s, and one more down the row. Dick’s guards seemed to be nonchalantly gathered around this one, and Damian could only roll his eyes as the warden put in the code to open the meta-resistant cell door.

Jon was sitting on his own cot, back against the wall, knees curled up. When he heard the beeping of the buttons the warden was pressing, he glanced up, and smiled brighter than any star when he saw who it was.

He was already scrambling to his feet as the cell’s door slowly rose. Damian returned the grin as he stepped into the space, carefully placed his items on the ground and swept Jon up into his arms. Jon immediately put his hands on Damian’s face, as he always did, and leaned in for a kiss.

And their lips barely brushed before there was the quiet sound of buzzing. Suddenly Jon was jumping backwards, grabbing for the collar around his neck.

“…Ow.” Jon murmured weakly. “…They turned these back on today. I guess someone in general population did something-”

“This is not a conjugal visit.” One of Dick’s guards reported gruffly, the sound muffled behind his helmet. “Please no sexual touching of any sort. If you would like one, you need to schedule it with-”

“Warden Alexei, can you please close the cell door.” Damian drawled over his shoulder, glaring at the guards. “I will call for you when I’m ready to leave.”

“…Of course, Mr. Wayne.” The warden nodded, hit a few more buttons, and when the door began to lower, quickly disappeared out of the ward. Damian kept his eyes on the soldiers for a second more before turning his full attention back to Jon.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, lifting his hand to hold Jon’s face. Jon smiled and leaned into it. “Grayson is angry at me. I…shouted at him earlier.”

“…I guess the collars make sense then.” Jon laughed, lifting both of his hands to grab Damian’s wrist. He carefully lowered his hand and tugged Damian forward, until they were both sitting on his bed, side by side. “They were turned on about an hour ago.”

Damian kept his eyes lowered, focusing on the silver cuffs around Jon’s wrists. Remotely magnetic handcuffs. All the prisoners had a pair that matched their shock collars. When a prisoner needed to have their hands bound, a guard just needed to hit a button and the magnet would activate, bringing the limbs together.

They’d be pretty, if they weren’t on his beloved.

“But how are you?” Jon asked, leaning down into Damian’s line of sight, trying to change the subject. “What’s new out there?”

“Nothing.” Damian mumbled grumpily. “The world is boring and ugly and I _hate_ it.”

Jonathan laughed.

“…It’s not funny.” Damian sighed, glancing up. “…I miss you.”

“And I miss _you_.” Jon slid his hand across the mattress, gripping Damian’s tightly. “Conner does too. He told me so the other day.”

Damian smirked. “Prison must be getting to him then.”

“Well, can you blame him? I at least get to look forward to seeing you every week.” Jon hummed. “Conner has…no one.”

“Drake would come if he could.” Damian promised. “But he’s still…scared. And for good reason. I…I can’t believe I’m saying it, but please don’t blame _him_.”

“I don’t.” Jon smiled. “ _We_ don’t.”

“Besides, he tends to cover for me when I come here. And for that, I am grateful. Though it’s not like I’m going to tell him that.”

Jon laughed again, and the sound was music to Damian’s ears. After a moment, Jon sighed, scooting closer to Damian’s side. Intertwining their fingers as he leaned his head on Damian’s shoulder.

“How is Tim anyway?” He whispered.

“Tired. Lonely.” Damian hummed. “He misses Conner as much as Conner misses him, and I think it’s starting to take its toll on him.” A hesitation, to stare down at their hands. At the handcuff and orange sleeve. “He doesn’t trust Grayson anymore, and I think Grayson is starting to notice.”

“Is he still safe then?”

“Grayson would never hurt us, no matter how much we hated him.” Damian sighed. “He didn’t know I came here before today. Not explicitly, anyway. I told you I shouted at him. I’d shouted at him about _you_.”

“Oh?”

“I told him I hated him for taking you away from me, in no uncertain terms. No doubt after my departure, one of my siblings told him where I go when I leave.” Damian explained. He paused, then though, and Jon’s words from earlier floated back to his head. “Wait a minute. I didn’t tell you what Grayson and I fought about before. Why were you unsurprised by the collars?”

Jon shifted to look up at him, eyes sad and tired. There was scruff on his chin, Damian could see now, and it made him look old.

“I figured it out by your stories.” Jon mumbled. “Every time you and Dick fight, or every time he and Tim fight…the collars get turned back on.”

Damian’s mouth dropped open. “…No.”

“Only for a few hours. The longest they were turned back on was eighteen hours and forty-three minutes.” Jon seemed to hesitate. “…They only shock us a once or twice when they’re turned on.”

Horror marred Damian’s face. “With reason?!”

Jon looked sheepishly away. “…Sometimes…”

“I’ll kill him.” Damian spat.

Jon’s head whirled around. “Damian-”

“I’ll kill my brother for this.” He continued, even as Jon tried to reach for his face, force him to look at him. “He’s not even my _brother_ anymore-”

Jon tried an old tactic. His favorite tactic, to get Damian to calm down. Gently held his face, brought him quickly towards his own. Breathed out and parted his lips to taste his-

**_Bzzt!_ **

He yelped this time. Jerked backwards and accidentally bounced his head against the stone wall of his cell.

“…Sorry, I forgot…” Jon all but whimpered. He’d closed his eyes in pain with the shock but when he opened them now, he saw Damian standing protectively in front of him, staring at the guards beyond the cell door. At the sound of Jon’s voice, though, he spun back around. Mimicked Jon’s previous gesture and took gentle hold of Jon’s face. Didn’t try to kiss him, but carefully checked him over for visible injuries. When he was satisfied, he sighed, slowly dragging Jon into his embrace.

**_BZZZZT!_ **

“Do it again.” Damian roared, jumping back to his feet and stalking towards the cell door, even as Jon grabbed for the collar. “Do it again, I fucking dare you.”

“This is not a conjugal visit.” A guard intoned once more.

“Do it again.” Damian didn’t let the guard repeat his mantra. “And I’ll tell your _commander_ that you shocked _me_.”

And this – of course – made the guards pause.

“I’ll tell him you pointed your stupid guns at me.” Damian continued. “I’ll tell him you left your posts. Left me _alone_ with the _aliens_.”

“Damian.” Jon whispered. “Don’t waste my time with you on them.”

Damian glared at his brother’s soldiers for another moment before bending to grab the forgotten picnic basket and bag, and spinning back towards Jon.

And without a word, he dropped the items on the bed, and slowly lifted his hands to run across Jon’s chest. Then slipped his fingers underneath the collar, kept them between the metal and Jon’s skin, gently held Jon’s neck, and descended one more time for that kiss.

No one was shocked.

Damian felt Jon’s own hands come up immediately, clutching at his coat, tugging at his scarf.

“Stop,” Jon moaned, barely moving his mouth from Damian’s. “Causing trouble.”

“You’re worth it.” Damian breathed.

“I won’t be when,” He grinned, as he pulled Damian forward. As he leaned against the wall, and forced Damian to stabilize with a knee between his. “When your brother has me transferred to Antarctica.”

“I’d find you.” Damian promised. “I’d find you, and I’d never stop looking until I _did_.”

“…I love you.” Jon murmured after a second, pulling back just slightly. Just enough to look Damian in the eye.

Damian smiled, as he brought his other knee up, settled between Jon’s as he practically boxed him against the wall.

“I love you too, Jonathan.”

And he was tearful now, as he slowly wound his arms around Damian’s torso, began to bend his legs, press them into Damian’s sides.

“I miss you.” Jon rasped, hiding his face against Damian’s chest. Clinging to him with all of his might. “…I want to go _home_.”

Damian could only wrap his arms around Jon’s shoulders. (Once again, the guards didn’t dare to activate the collar.) Let Jon shake and quietly cry while he held him, burying his face in Jon’s hair.

“I know. And one day, I’ll get you there.” Damian promised. “You and your brother both.”

Jon sniffed loudly, nodded vigorously against Damian’s chest.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” Jon hummed. “I _hate_ when you leave.”

“Then I’ll stay extra long today, regardless of visitor hours or idiot soldiers standing outside the door.” Carefully, Damian unwound himself. Held Jon’s face once more, and slowly wiped the tears away. “Don’t cry, Beloved. My sister would be upset if you cried while you ate the cupcakes she made especially for you.”

That earned a blubbery laugh.

Jon sat back, wiping his own eyes as Damian reluctantly climbed off of him. He kept himself close though, let only a second go by of them not touching each other before pressing himself to Jon’s side.

And opposite of earlier, it was now him who leaned his head on Jon’s shoulder, watching as Jon picked up and dug through the picnic basket, deciding on what treat to eat first.

“…You have a library here, correct?” Damian asked, picking up the other bag he’d brought, placing it on his lap. A gift, a small voice recorder. Filled with some of Jon’s favorite fairy tales, read by Damian. He’d give it to him at the end of his visit, to avoid spending the entirety of their little time together in tears. Jon made a sound of affirmation in answer to the question. “Tell me about the last book you read.”

And as Jon did just that, with a mouth full of cookies, Damian closed his eyes. Smiled when he felt Jon’s hand slide back into his, squeeze tenderly. Let himself be lulled into a fleeting, temporary peace by the wonderful sound of his beloved’s voice, and the simple thought, the simple dream of:

_One day we’ll be together again._


End file.
